


The Splendour Of Hell

by reason_says



Category: Bandom, Brand New, Straylight Run
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-12
Updated: 2007-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-12 18:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/127978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reason_says/pseuds/reason_says
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jesse is drunk. Jesse wants to be Jesus. "So what's new?" you're saying. But wait, there's a twist!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Splendour Of Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: To the best of my knowledge, this never happened. I am in no way affiliated with any of the real people referenced herein, and I am making no money from this.  
> Written for the [](http://community.livejournal.com/jessesnamehere/profile)[**jessesnamehere**](http://community.livejournal.com/jessesnamehere/) Valentine's Day ficathon.  
>  This? It is crack. It is also Kasha's fault. It is not Quinn's fault at all, which surprised both of us.  
> Lyrics by Morrissey.

**The Splendour Of Hell**

  
It was time, Jesse decided, to put to rest once and for all his questions about his name.

Naturally, this involved absurd amounts of alcohol and a slightly unwilling John. How else did Jesse get anything done? (Through the power of the Lord, the back of his mind told him, but he shook it off as not being drunk enough.)

"No, see, the thing is, the thing _is_ ," he began, "Jesse and Jesus are only two letters apart. And, I mean, there's gotta be a reason for that, right? That can't be an accident."

John had long since stopped making eye contact, finding that it only encouraged Jesse. Not that he actually _needed_ encouragement.

"It's like, the first three letters are the same, you know? So if it weren't for the last..." he paused, "whatever fraction, I'd be Jesus!"

"Jesse," John shook his head, "you do this every week. Just accept that you're not the messiah and move on."

"But I _could_ be!" Jesse lunged across the table, sending John scrambling to protect his beer. "If she'd only though ahead, I could be a saviour!"

"I'm pretty sure Jesus was the saviour before he was named." Why was John still arguing, both of them wondered. Clearly he wasn't drunk enough.

"Nonono, but that's the thing! He was named before he was born! 'You _will_ have a son, and he _will_ be called Jesus'!"

"Jesse." Ah, finally, a slur appeared. Jesse smiled in triumph. "Jesse, think about what you just said."

"What?" What had he just said? What was wrong with it?

"Who _told_ Mary about her son?"

"Some angel, how should I know?" Jesse waved his hand dismissively, sloshing his beer. He looked at his bottle, alarmed. Hadn't it been full a moment ago? And now it was half gone! He shook his head and took another drink.

"Did an angel tell your Mom about you?"

Jesse blinked and made a noncommittal noise. "Iunno. How should I know? She never told me."

"Did you ask?"

" _Yes!_ " Jesse nodded frantically, then shook his head when the room spun. "I asked her when I was Confirmed!"

"Well," John forced himself to speak slowly, because otherwise he was going to sound like the irrational one in a conversation with _Jesse,_ and that was never a good sign. "What did she say?"

"She laughed." Jesse frowned at the table. "And... she said she'd tell me when I was older."

"Did she?"

"I just said she didn't!" Jesse shook his head. "Sometimes I think you don't listen when I talk."

"Jesse," John laughed, "of course I don't. You talk about being the _sa_ viour, who _knows_ what you'd say if you thought I was paying at _ten_ tion?" He said it just like that, deliberate stresses and everything, and Jesse frowned.

"Well, why not? Why couldn't I be Jesus?" He leaned heavily on the table, jostling it and overturning the bottles that had accumulated on its surface. (John almost fell off his chair laughing at Jesse's face when he scrambled back, away from the avalanche of brown glass.)

"Well, I dunno," John said, when he could trust himself to keep a straight face for more than half a second, "Why don't you call your Mom and ask her?"

"Fine, I will! I-" Jesse twisted in his chair. "Shit, where's my phone?"

"Here." John fished a cell phone out of his pocket and slid it across the table. "Use mine."

Jesse stared at the phone for a moment, trying to figure out whether the buttons had strange symbols on them or if he was drunker than he thought. He shook his head and punched in what he thought was his home number.

He had the phone to his ear, absently tapping his fingers on the table, when it crackled loudly at him and a very irritated male voice answered.

"What do you want, Lacey?"

Jesse held the phone away for a moment, staring at it incredulously. "Adam?"

"Very good. Now what is it? I have things to do."

Jesse looked up at John, pointing at the phone and mouthing _"Lazzara"_ exaggeratedly. John rolled his eyes, and Jesse frowned at him.

"Why are you at my house, Lazzara?" he demanded, not bothering to pronounce the name without slurring. Bastard wasn't worth his time.

Bastard sighed. "I'm not at your house, dick. You called my cell. Now what do you want, or can I hang up now?"

Jesse made an outraged noise. "How could I- How the _fuck_ could I have called you when I don't know your number? And, and why the hell _would_ I call you?"

Adam sighed, exasperated. "Never mind, I know what this is. Nolan gave you his phone, am I right?"

Jesse blinked.

"Are you there, fucker? 'Cause I can hang up if you're not interested."

"Nonono, I'm here!" Jesse shook his head slowly. "How the hell did you know that?"

"Because that's the only way you'd get this number. It's a direct line."

Jesse covered the phone and hissed at John, "Why do you have a direct line to Lazzara?"

John waved his hand at him. "Just keep listening. He'll tell you."

"What the hell is going _on_ here, Nolan?"

"Just. _Listen._ "

"GODDAMMIT, LACEY," Adam bellowed, so loudly that Jesse could hear it through his hand, "If you DON'T WANT TO KNOW, you can just HANG THE FUCK UP and LEAVE ME ALONE."

Cautiously, Jesse put the phone to his ear. "If I don't want to know what?"

"I keep forgetting you're exactly as dumb as you look." Suddenly Jesse felt a stinging slap across his cheek. He glared at John, his anger turning into confusion when he realised that he was at least five feet away and couldn't possibly have hit him.

"OK, what the _fuck_ just happened?" he asked the world at large.

"Shut up and pay attention!" the world yelled back at him. Or maybe it was just John and Adam. Regardless, the synchronisation was disturbing enough to cow him, and he nodded.

"Fine. So what, exactly, do I want to know?"

Adam sighed. "Well, 'want' isn't really the right word. You think you're Jesus."

"Hey, all I said was that it was possible! Like you're the expert, anyway?" Jesse stopped, his eyes widening. "...how did you know that?"

Jesse would have sworn he could hear Adam close his eyes in irritation. "Nolan didn't tell you that part yet?"

"Tell me _what?_ " Jesse looked desperately from John to the phone and back. "What the hell is going _on?_ "

"OK, just listen."

Jesse opened his mouth, but Adam cut him off. "And if you open your fool mouth _one more time_ before I explain, I will have it _sewn shut._ "

Jesse, remembering the disembodied slap, shut his mouth and nodded.

"All right. In the first place, you're not Jesus. You're a _moron,_ but you're sure as hell not Jesus. And because I _know_ you're going to ask, yes. I know who is. And because there's no way you won't ask this, nosy little bastard that you are, the reason I know is that I'm the Antichrist."

"I _knew it!_ " Jesse burst out, forgetting his fear of needles in favour of being proven right. "You fucking _dick,_ I knew it!"

"Shut up, Lacey," Adam purred, and the lack of anger in his voice startled Jesse into silence. "I don't go back on my word, and Jesus would be _very_ unhappy if I actually sewed your mouth shut. He has... uses for it."

"Oh, just _tell him,_ Lazzara," John broke in. "He doesn't have all day."

"Fuck you, Nolan," Adam replied in conversational tones, though how he expected John to hear him Jesse had no idea. "You could have told him yourself, you know. It'd be easier for everyone involved."

"But then I wouldn't get the full reaction!" Was John _pouting?_

Adam sighed. "You fucker. OK, Lacey, you listening?"

In fact, Jesse was only half-listening, the other half of his attention still trying to figure out what was going on, with a side of _how the hell can they hear each other?_ He nodded blankly, not daring to speak, but figuring that if Adam could _slap him,_ (Seriously, man, the fucking _Antichrist?_ What the _hell?_ ) he could see him nodding.

"All right then," Adam didn't even pause, "Nolan's Jesus."

It didn't even register for a good five seconds, but when it hit Jesse's eyes widened and he snapped his head up to stare at John. John, who was smiling beatifically at him across the table. John. Jesus.

Jesse dropped the phone.

John tilted his head, amused. "You OK, Jess?"

"You're Jesus."

"Yep."

"You're _Jesus._ "

"Yeah." John smirked. "Are you gonna be OK with that?"

Jesse dropped his mouth open in shock. "Am I--? _OK?_ Am I gonna be _OK_ with it?" He dropped his head, cradling it in his hands. "You fucker, why didn't you tell me?"

"I was waiting."

"For what?" Jesse couldn't believe he was actually having this conversation.

"For you to react the way I want you to."

"John, what the hell--"

"You remember that one time in high school?"

Jesse frowned. "Nolan, there was no 'one time in high school'."

"No, you're right. Because you said that the only way you'd ever sleep with a guy was if he was Christ personified."

Jesse stared. "John, what. How can you."

John growled in frustration. "Jesse, no offense, but Adam's right. You _are_ a moron."

Jesse blinked, hoping it would settle the pieces of _what-the-hell_ back into place. "You want to sleep with me?"

" _Such_ a moron."

And suddenly John was standing next to Jesse, kneeling so their eyes were even, and putting one hand on Jesse's shoulder. "I tour with you, I sing with you, I hug you _way_ too closely onstage. I wrote you a _song,_ Jess." He smiled. "What do you think?"

Jesse took a deep breath, trying to center himself, or at least clear the alcohol out of his mind and _wow,_ that was not something he'd ever wanted to do before. "You're really Jesus?"

John smirked. "Yes, you dick. I'm really Jesus."

"Are you sure? 'Cause I really don't think you're supposed to talk like that."

"Shut up, Lacey. I'm the son of God; I can pretty much do whatever I want."

Jesse laughed silently. " _Forgive me any pain, I may have brung to ya._ "

"OK, stop that."

" _With God's help I know, I'll always be near to ya._ "

"Shut _up,_ Lacey."

" _But Jesus hurt me, when he deserted me._ "

John closed his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation.

" _But I have forgiven Jesus._ "

John smiled, truly smiled, and shook his head. "I'm really trying not to make a _de profundis clamo ad te_ joke here, but I don't think it's working. Are you done now?"  
"Oh, shut up, Nolan," Jesse snarled, and kissed him.


End file.
